FAITHFOODFEARhttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com
Somewhere in between graduating college in Biology and attempting to have a life. This is my story of my running, working, relationships, school, friends and support. My ups, downs, complete failures, and undenying truths along the way. Oh, did I mention I am recovering from an eating disorder in the midst of it all? Welcome to life in recovery.... it gets a little bumpy.Wed, 11 Apr 2018 23:18:34 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/fd2f16f2ed35a86ef768b4bc0d8f95f3?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs0.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngFAITHFOODFEARhttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com
Trying To Not Think Before I Acthttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2018/04/11/trying-to-not-think-before-i-act/
https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2018/04/11/trying-to-not-think-before-i-act/#respondWed, 11 Apr 2018 23:00:20 +0000http://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/?p=1545Continue reading Trying To Not Think Before I Act]]>She asks if I’m numb,

I’m not really sure how I feel.

So I guess the answer is yes.

I’m exhausted,

I’m numb,

I’m fearful.

I’m not really sure what I am, but if I had been feeling anything I probably wouldn’t have gotten my running shoes and handed them over with really no fight.

I’m more fearful of gaining weight than losing my job;

and if we’re honest,

only one of them has driven me to starve myself.

Maybe my problem is that I really just think too much.

I question,

I wonder,

I doubt and I worry.

Which in itself isn’t a bad thing, but it is the only thing standing in my way.

I doubt my own abilities.

This week, I was given a menu to follow for food.

Like a meal plan, but really with no options or substitutes, which is what I really need right now.

No gray area, more or less this menu is a list of chores or rules that need to be followed, non-negotiables.

It was a direct: “Wednesday have this that and the other.”

Not a “try this”, or “how about that”, but something black and white to follow, which for some reason makes it easier. Just like when I am reassured that I don’t need to run, or am told to flat out “stop running”. It makes it easier when I’m not able to bargain or weasel my way out, no loop holes, or ways around it.

I find and make excuses daily. Reasons why I don’t need to eat, shouldn’t eat, am too busy to eat.

I think. And it gets me into the hole I find myself in.

With this menu, there are no other options, no thinking, no excuses.

For the next couple of days I’m going to do. Not think or try.

For now, it needs to be something that I just do.

I will always remember the conversation I had with my pastor when I lived with him and his wife.

Me: “I don’t want to.”

Him: “That’s fine, you don’t have to….”

Me: “Really?!”

Him: “….you don’t have to WANT to, but you’re going to.”

So, for this week, I really don’t want to, and I don’t have to want to.

]]>https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2018/04/11/trying-to-not-think-before-i-act/feed/0faithfoodfearWhat I do, Not who I amhttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2018/04/03/what-i-do-not-who-i-am/
https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2018/04/03/what-i-do-not-who-i-am/#respondTue, 03 Apr 2018 23:42:36 +0000http://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/?p=1543Continue reading What I do, Not who I am]]>Do you remember that old anxiety provoking game of “Perfection”?

Where you were given a time limit to put various shapes in their respective slots before the board buzzed and the pieces you managed to meticulously put in place were then shot into the air and back in your face.

Somehow this “game” feels like the perfect metaphor of my childhood.

Being busy and doing “stuff”, was always regarded as “good”. If mom was vacuuming we were expected to get up and do something as well. It was hectic, and typically felt like we were walking on egg shells. The anxiety and panic my mom could set off, similar to that timer of the game.

Still to this day, when my sister calls me because my mother is stressing out and off in one of her whirlwinds, I just tell her, “Stay out of mom’s way. She will freak out and yell at you if she sees you, so go hide downstairs, or at least stay out of her sight.”

When my parents were gone, I would sometimes arrive home to a list of things to be done:

Vacuum

Empty the dishwasher

Clean the cat box

Fold the laundry

Feed the dog

It was a race against time to get all the tasks done before they arrived home, and god forbid I forgot something on the list.

I was “lazy”, “selfish”, I did things “half-ass”.

I was constantly bombarded with the pursuit of what was “good enough” and because of that became very driven and goal oriented. I found my identity in what I accomplished and how well I accomplished said tasks. My worth was knit tightly with my productivity.

In elementary school these goals and fixation on my productivity started off small, making the honor roll, getting a lead in a play. Later, these became the idea that I had to do it all, and do it with excellence. I’m not sure my story could become more cliché, but if I made a 95 on a test I was congratulated and reprimanded in the same breath, “Well, what about a 100?” “Were there no extra credit points?”.

Somewhere in the mix, I was doing sports in middle school, and staying busy with student government, the school paper and science fairs; dodging the school receptionist and my math teacher because between the two of them they weren’t sure if they had ever seen me eat.

Learning about Eating Disorders in my health class, as if I hadn’t already stumbled across that tucked somewhere in between my mom’s comments about my body, my parents’ drunken fights and taking care of my two little sibs before I could even drive.

For as long as I can remember I stayed busy in school, especially in high school. I would go into school early for a National Honor Society meeting, or a Student Government meeting. I would stay late for practice, or tutoring classmates, then head off to work where I would stay, by myself, until about 11 – if I didn’t have to call the cops because of a hostile customer. While other high schoolers may have been sneaking alcohol and cigarettes, I could tell you the price difference between Marlboro and Pall Malls, and the total the packs would come to, including tax. If I skipped class it was to go back to the weight room and work out, my music kept me preoccupied, I didn’t have to think. I could immerse myself in music and not have to worry about later.

Did I stay so busy because I didn’t want to go home where my parents were probably drunk and screaming at each other, or was it for another reason?

Did I want to be prideful about how I could juggle everything at a young age and still succeed at school?

Maybe – regardless, self-esteem and worth held hands with grades and productivity as they skipped through the freshly mopped aisles of the gas station I worked at.

No matter what I did, I was blamed for the bad, and my mom took credit for the good.

Softball award? Well, it’s a good thing mom went to all of those games… or, ehhh, one, that one time.

I did anything I could to get my mom to like me. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong, or why nothing was good enough. Voted most unforgettable, holding a job, participating in sports, scholarship, live in babysitter. I didn’t understand why nothing I did seemed to be right, or enough.

I figured if it wasn’t my productivity and accomplishments that weren’t good enough, maybe it was just me.

Maybe I was just “too fat”.

My mom, on a good day, soaking wet, is probably 100 lbs.

I did sports, but I began to run.

And run.

Weight came off, I was still staying busy, and it was another way that hopefully my mom would like me.

It was more or less my commitment, I would run in the rain, in the snow, it didn’t matter if it was 9 degrees or 90.

People noticed, they commented on the weight, or how frequently they would see me run.

Mom disregarded it all together, by that point I was no longer living with them, but still lived in fear of her, and wanted so badly to be loved and appreciated by her.

If I didn’t run what I deemed to be far enough, it was twisted as something I could have and should have done better. I considered it a lack of trying, or being lazy, not necessarily listening to my body and what it needed. Skipping a day of running was a lack of productivity, leading to the ever spinning cycle of “fat”, “lazy”, “selfish”. It wasn’t like a tape you see, because tapes have to be stopped and rewound to get back to the beginning. This was an endless loop of judgement based on my actions.

Why I still cling to running is still cloudy to me. Could be because it is something I can still be prideful in, or that is looked at through the disordered glasses of the diet culture as something to be praised.

Sometimes I’m not really sure who I am. It feels more or less like a list of what I do.

I go to work, I take care of my dog, I run and workout.

Who I am seems more uncomfortable.

I am a biochemist, a dog mom, a runner.

The first and last still seem to be closely tied with what I accomplish and how productive I am, not necessarily WHO I am.

]]>https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2018/04/03/what-i-do-not-who-i-am/feed/0faithfoodfearThe Angel on my Shoulder Hung an “Out of Office” Signhttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/11/02/the-angel-on-my-shoulder-hung-an-out-of-office-sign/
https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/11/02/the-angel-on-my-shoulder-hung-an-out-of-office-sign/#respondThu, 02 Nov 2017 12:01:14 +0000http://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/?p=1535Continue reading The Angel on my Shoulder Hung an “Out of Office” Sign]]>I feel like I’d be lying if I didn’t say that for a moment, if only a brief moment, it felt like it was my eating disorder and I against everyone else.

In the cliché scenario of the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, the angel had hung an “Out of Office” sign, and the devil was none other than the eating disorder I had catered to for an unknown amount of years.

Sitting in my appointment replaying the week over in my head, “I did alright” I told myself. Allowing myself to eat pizza, toast (with butter), and other terrifying foods that sat somewhere between dentist appointment and pap smear on list of things I really wanted in my body.

Then hearing, “I’m concerned, this isn’t good. There has to be a shift.”

At that moment, the devil on my shoulder gave me a high-five and felt ready to tag team the world.

Having to sit and acknowledge the fact that no, maybe running and working out isn’t a great idea right now was enough to bring tears to my eyes; Unable to figure out how I would cope and numb everything if I wasn’t able to lift and go to the gym.

They joke that “Denial is more than just a river in Africa.”
Which is true, to me it felt more like a hot tub, surrounding me with comfort and warmth. Trying to get out of it would be uncomfortable, and leave me wanting to dive back in head first, to what I had grown accustomed to. Much like the parable of the boiling frog, in which a frog is placed in warm water, and the temperature slowly rises to boiling, until the frog is boiled to death.

I wanted more than anything to stand up, I could feel ED tugging on the neck of my shirt. I wanted to let ED ruin this appointment. I wanted to act like a 2 year old, the “terrible twos” – type of two year old, and have a fit. I wanted to tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about.

The dietitian, with more letters behind her name than actually in mine, I wanted to tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about. I wanted to gesture to the waiting room and shout that “I DON’T LOOK LIKE HER! I’M FINE.” Once again, using my weight and my capabilities in the gym as my only standing as to why I am “fine”.

Now, taking a step back, I know that what she says is truth, and I know something has to change. (I’m also glad I didn’t make an ass out of myself yesterday).

It speaks volumes when something as little as trying to take a break from exercising sends me into a full blow panic and fit. Now, trying to remind myself that; not running is an accomplishment for me.

Taking another step back, I realize that if I had the type of body my ED says I should want, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy, or do, the physical activities I want. Plus, then what? I’d be another year or so older, still struggling with an eating disorder, maybe weighing less, but at some point being right back here.

It’s been a reoccurring theme lately from various people, that your heart only gets so many beats, so why waste them on things I don’t enjoy?

I will realize that my body is mine, and I don’t owe anything to anyone. It may still feel like I owe something to others, but I will learn to not pay for the space I take up in apologies or miles.

]]>https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/10/22/recovery-manifesto/feed/1faithfoodfearWhy I Haven’t, Won’t, and Don’t Plan on Keeping my Eating Disorder from my Little Sister.https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/05/14/why-i-havent-wont-and-dont-plan-on-keeping-my-eating-disorder-from-my-little-sister/
https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/05/14/why-i-havent-wont-and-dont-plan-on-keeping-my-eating-disorder-from-my-little-sister/#respondSun, 14 May 2017 20:10:50 +0000http://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/?p=1514Continue reading Why I Haven’t, Won’t, and Don’t Plan on Keeping my Eating Disorder from my Little Sister.]]>Involving family in your recovery is probably a good idea if it is beneficial, but what if that family is your little sister who is 12 years younger than you? Is that too young to involve your sister in your eating disorder and your recovery?

I didn’t keep the fact that I have an eating disorder secret while in recovery.

My sister came with me the day I was admitted, she came to two of my family weekends, and after meals she would sometimes accompany me to the bathroom, where we would sing songs and laugh.

Why would I involve my 12 year old sister in something that could be so raw and vulnerable you might ask.

Her life currently consists of pointe, competitions, and teaching ballet to little kids.

She could very well be in my shoes in a few short years and is susceptible to also struggling with an eating disorder.

If there is the possibility that she could struggle, I want to be honest and open with her about my struggles so she can acknowledge it before it consumes her. That doesn’t mean she won’t hide it, or is sheltered from it, but knowing that it is okay to talk about it and seek help if her eating or thought process becomes disordered.

I reassure her that eating when you are hungry is great. That it is necessary to eat before and/or after practice. That there isn’t “good” or “bad” foods, that regardless if our mom eats, or what she eats, we need to eat and be okay with it. When your sister makes comments like, “Mom can eat whatever she wants, and always stays so tiny.” You know it is crucial to reinforce the thoughts that it doesn’t matter and you need to fuel your body.

Rather than silently suffering for years like I did, and denying I ever had a problem, I want her to be able to speak up, allow me to help, and attempt to nip it in the bud before it overgrows inside of her.

That is why I choose to involve my little sister in something that could be considered taboo or shameful. I want my sister to realize there is not guilt or shame in suffering, and being open with your struggles, and an eating disorder is nothing to be ashamed of or silent about.

]]>https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/05/14/why-i-havent-wont-and-dont-plan-on-keeping-my-eating-disorder-from-my-little-sister/feed/0faithfoodfearElla and the Non Verbal Childhttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/05/13/ella-and-the-non-verbal-child/
https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/05/13/ella-and-the-non-verbal-child/#respondSat, 13 May 2017 14:47:07 +0000http://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/?p=1494Continue reading Ella and the Non Verbal Child]]>Friends of mine typically know two things about me: I have a three legged dog, and my typical, daily extreme dislike of people.
Today was different, since it was raining Ella and I didn’t do our normal routine of going to the dog park. Instead, I spent over an hour in That Pet Place. The look of fear I get from some people due to the fact that Ella is a German Sheperd kills me. She is the sweetest baby ever, but yet people still avoid the two of us, as if somehow Ella is going to viciously go after them and their small children.

I met a mom and her two kids, one of her daughters has nonverbal autism, seizures, and cerebral palsy. Seeing that Ella had three legs, the mom made a statement of her daughter and Ella both having disabilities.

The daughter, Bri, quickly fell in love with Ella. She copied Ella by panting with her tongue out, squealed, held Ella’s tail, pet her ears, and shook with excitement when Ella soaked her face with kisses.

Was I scared that Bri would reach for Ella and was going to fall out of her wheelchair onto the floor?

No….. I was terrified.

I knew my dog better than anybody in that store, and knew nothing would happen. I could feel my anxiety rising, I hated being out, in stores, around people and my very vocal dog for any amount of time. I lived for the fact that I could run in and out of stores by the time most parents got their kids out of their car seat.

This family and I walked around the store for about an hour, letting the other daughter walk Ella, while we trailed behind. Listening to the excited squeals coming from both Ella and Bri. This was an amazing rainy Saturday, that warmed my heart as I watched this little girl shake, squeal, laugh and reach for Ella out of pure joy.

This was the Saturday that absolutely melted my heart.

]]>https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/05/13/ella-and-the-non-verbal-child/feed/018447429_10208343448850224_3794522304677962237_nfaithfoodfearImage may contain: one or more people and dogTrusting The Process With a Trust Problemhttps://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/04/26/trusting-the-process-with-a-trust-problem/
https://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/2017/04/26/trusting-the-process-with-a-trust-problem/#respondWed, 26 Apr 2017 09:58:49 +0000http://faithfoodfear.wordpress.com/?p=1490Continue reading Trusting The Process With a Trust Problem]]>If not now, then when?

The question was enough to fuel my morning drive to work.

Recovery has been filling my mind and thoughts, probably more than it should.

Life is going great, I have no more stress than the next person,

A good job an awesome dog

A warm apartment a running car supportive friends

Coffee benefits paid time off

The ability to run

Why does my recovery want to take a sudden stop?

I don’t think it was sudden, it never is, but the restricting became more and more, until my list of foods was as depleted as my ability to fight ED off.

I’ve begun seeing a nutritionist, after months and months of putting it off, not wanting to go, etc. I like her, she is a believer and advocate of HAES, believes in intuitive eating. Overall, I have enjoyed the experience.

Yet the battle in my head is still raging.

It isn’t as easy as the “talking back” that I hear others talk about so frequently. No, for me, it has to be factual.

Which kinda fueled the internal dialogue this morning.

On more than one occasion I have been in a room of people struggling with their Eating Disorders, whether it be in treatment, support groups, wherever.

I look around, (and no, this is not going where you think it is going), and sometimes I am almost the oldest in the room, sometimes I am practically the youngest. When I am at the upper range of age I remember being their age, being so filled of denial, and so full of my eating disorder.

When there are people much older than me, I think of that is how I want my life to be at their age?

Should my life be focused on my body and eating disorder when:

I have kids

Get married

Start another job

My kids are grown up

My siblings get married

So, if not now, then when?

I also have “Trust the Process” tattooed on my wrist, to remind me of recovery.

I’m struggling with following my meal plan given to me, and it is so difficult to listen to my body when I am hungry and not feel the need to run first in order to “earn” the food that my body needs.

I am telling myself that I wouldn’t want someone to tell/question me on how to do my job, so then why am I questioning and fighting her so much?

She knows what she is talking about and is on my side, so why am I fighting her?

With Eating Disorder Awareness week slowly but surely creeping up, there has been something that has really been bothering me.

The fucking before and after pictures.

I realize, that for some, they can be helpful. You can see how far people have come, the weight they have put on, etc.

For some though, it is a complete and total nightmare. Can we quit glamorizing the before and after pictures??! YOU DO NOT HAVE TO LOOK LIKE THOSE PICTURES TO BE WORTHY OF RECOVERY.

YOUR WEIGHT DOES NOT INVALIDATE YOUR NEED FOR HELP!

I was one of those people who saw emaciated people and wished to look like that. I wanted so badly to be tiny like “those girls”. That was also my justification for not needing treatment. “I wasn’t THAT small.” “I didn’t look like THAT.” So in my mind, it made me less worthy of recovery.

As if somehow, my weight had a direct correlation on the amount of pain and suffering I had gone through.

Those before and after pictures do nothing but add to the stigma of how you are “supposed to look”